Changes
by John Larimore
Summary: What ever happened to the Predacons


  
The fanfiction takes place a few months after the "Beast Machines" saga. I do not own that show nor its concept.  
  
CHANGES  
  
The ship was barely functioning. It would have been called derelict except that the term is usually applied to ships that have been abandoned. This ship was still populated, albeit by less than two-thirds of those who began the voyage. It looked doubtful that many of the rest would finish the trip. At least it appeared that the ship would last long enough to get them there. Barely.  
Captain Rentar stared blankly forward. They were almost there. The last leg would be no easier than the ones before. The ship was badly damaged, half the surviving crew was helpless in sickbay. Every inch traveled was a challenge.  
Still, the biggest challenge lay adead. What type of greeting awaited them at their destination? The home world of their ancestors: Cybertron.  
  
Commander Trull surveyed the command center of the base. The controversy still buzzed in his head. Some called the base a necessity. Many said it was a precaution. Others said it was the lesser of two evils. Still others wanted it out of existence.  
Whatever it was called or thought of, it was here. Watching and guarding the skies of Cybertron. Many Maximals feared future threats. During the last two Great Wars there was a Headmaster named Fortress Maximus, the greatest Autobot leader after Optimus Prime. Maximus' philosophy has been, "Hope for peace, but prepare for war." This was the official policy of the Maximal government now.  
"Commander Trull!" called Monitor Pux.  
"What is it Monitor?"  
"There's a space craft approaching. It appears that it will land in sector C8. I can't identify the design, but it has Predacon energy signatures."  
The formally quiet base became alive with acticity. Troops and vehicles went to intercept the ship. Nothing had been heard from Predacons since Optimus Optimal restored the planet. Many feared the Preds were still out there. The time many had feared may have been here.  
  
Commander Lin attempted to stand, but his legs were useless. He touched the nearby body of his captain. He stirred, but didn't awaken. He'd been knocked unconscious in the crash. Lin himself was second in command, formally fourth in command, but promoted after the deaths of the second and third.  
"Commander," called a voice so strained it was barely recognized of that of Scanner Kennoms, "Maximals outside. Several."  
The ships scanners where now useless. Kennoms had simply landed near a window when she tumbled in the crash.  
"Mediator Balig, are you functioning?"  
"Yes sir."  
"If you can, go outside and explain our situation."  
"Yes sir."  
Commander Lin watched Balig limp toward the door, holding on to whatever was within reach and sturdy as he went. It was time to face destiny.  
  
"Identify yourself," demanded Commander Trull, even before the door had completely opened.  
"My name is Balig, Chief Mediator of the Star Shuttle Nova. We need help. Our crew has been infected and we-."  
"Go back! Get back in your craft now! We'll send someone to talk with you."  
"Please. We're dying. Most of us-."  
Several heat blasts struck the ground at his feet. He fell over and dared not move."  
"That was your only warning. Get back in your craft or be assassinated."  
Balig made a scrambling crawl back into the Star Shuttle. What the heck had just happened?  
  
This became the issue within the Shuttle. No one expected a warm welcome, but fired upon? That wasn't the nature of Maximals. Granted they'd barely recognized Cybertron. The planet was covered with cybernetic life forms causing Cybertron to match its name   
  
  
in a whole new way. Still, these were obviously Maximals and Maximals didn't shoot unprovoked.  
"Someone's coming," said Kennoms. She's been asked to stay by the window and wasn't in much condition to move any way.  
A loud knock came from the door. Captain Rentar, who had regained consciousness, opened it with a remote button. All stared. It was a Communications Drone. A lifeless automaton used to transmit information. The Maximals had sent it in place of themselves. This couldn't have been a good sign.  
"This is Commander Trull," came the transmitted voice. "What do you want?"  
"This is Captain Rentar. We are infected and need help."  
"What makes you think we're inclined to help Predacons?"  
"That name means little now. We know nothing of what happened to Cybertron. Let me tell you what happened on the world Predacons were transferred to.  
"When Megatron returned he was insane. He wanted all Cybertroneans dead. He released several deadly plagues on the Predacon Transfer World. When he certain the viruses and bacteria and fungi would do the job, he left for Cybertron. We're the only survivors. The last of the Predacons."  
"Why are you here?"  
"To ask for help. We have no doctors left. Yours are our last hope."  
"We will consider. Stay in your craft. Anyone who leaves will be killed instantly."  
The drone left.  
"They're probably afraid of contagion," said Balig, though he feared worse.  
  
"It's simple," Commander Trull as he testified before the Council. "We kill them and then go to the Predacon world and make sure they're really the last."  
The council meeting was tense. Discussion had never been his heated.  
"I don't like killing helpless and innocent beings."  
"There's no such thing as an innocent Predacon."  
"Agreed," said Council Member Vurig. "Have you forgotten the history. How the Quintesons created us?  
  
Almost the entire planet was a factory for military and consumer goods. The Quintesons where the managers and the first goods became the labor. Some goods were sold to other worlds, but most were kept on Cybertron as slaves.  
But the goods became self-aware. Sentient individuals with the desire for freedom. The Quintesons were driven away from Cybertron in the rebellion. But it did not end there. Although the goods could now think, their thoughts were based on their core programming. The consumer goods, destined to become Autobots, sought a life with as few troubles as possible. The military goods, destined to become Decepticons, sought conquest and power. So began the Great Wars.  
Every time the Autobots won, they made the same mistake. They laid down their arms and relaxed. Then the Decepticons came and attacked again. Now, we the descendants of the Autobots. Are repeating the mistakes. We lay down our arms, while the descendants of the Decepticons, the Predacons, come for us. Megatron was proof of this."  
"Megatron was a rogue."  
"That doesn't mean he didn't reflect the Predacon philosophy. We all know the truth. The Predacon government was planning to attack. They just didn't think the time was right. Megatron couldn't wait."  
"He's right. Decepticons lied to the Autobots and now the Predacons lie to us. Even if Megatron did attack his own people (which is typical Pred behavior) they'll attack us as soon as they are capable."  
The debate continued, but was largely one-sided. Most agreed with Vurig. The was threat and had to be dealt with.  
  
Captain Rentar watched the approaching Maximals. They had more drones with them. Now, however, they were medical drones. Perhaps help was here at last.  
"We're sending in drones to find out about the infection and the risk of contamination. Please open the door to your craft."  
Rentar quickly did so. The drones entered and began their examinations. Then, the care stopped.  
  
  
Each drone opened its chest compartment. Most of the Predacons had a chance to gasp before the bombs were detonated.  
  
"Sensors show no life forms Sir."  
"Good," said Rentar. "Begin the sterilization procedure."  
"Was this really necessary?" asked Private Haunk. He'd been opposed to this action, but his low rank gave him on leeway with the Council.  
"It was," said Rentar. "You know what the Decepticon were. What the Predacons are. They are evil. That simple. Any surviving Predacons would want to destroy us and nothing else. As we speak, a well-armed fleet is going to the Pred world to ensure there are none left. It's the only way to keep ourselves safe. Predacons don't change."  
"But Maximals do."  
"Yes, because now Maximals are survivors."  
Haunk said nothing. Still, he worried about this new and possibly dangerous path his people were taking. Was it precautionary, or something more frightening?"  
  



End file.
